On Eros and Agape
by yuugiri
Summary: But what was love, anyway? What was agape? What was eros? What was Viktor's agape? What was Viktor's eros? A year ago, if anyone had asked Viktor those questions, he might have laughed it off and said some random word just to push their buttons. But now… Well...


**On Eros and Agape**

 **by: Yuugiri**

* * *

Viktor Nikiforov could say that Yuuri Katsuki was many things. He was an emotional eater. He wore his heart on his sleeve. He thought that seduction had everything to do with eggs and pork.

That, and he was the most _erotic_ drunk dancer Viktor had ever laid eyes on.

Yuuri Katsuki was very hard to notice at first, and that was because… well… because he was someone who had to make an effort to stand out. Viktor had, at one point, even wondered why he chose a career where he had to stand, alone, in the middle of the spotlight only to be crushed under the pressure of judging eyes. Of course, Viktor was yet to find out that the reason why Yuuri Katsuki even wanted to step onto the ice was because he had been so enthralled by Viktor so much so he had to get out of his comfort zone, leave his family, his town and even his country just to get a shot at being on the same rink as him.

When Viktor decided to go to Japan, people had been shocked that he left after such a successful season and abandon his five-year winning streak just to coach a twenty-three, now twenty-four year-old Japanese man. And perhaps at first, Viktor had wanted exactly that; Viktor loved to surprise his audience.

But the one who was most surprised was Viktor himself. He had not expected to find himself this… _attached_ … to a single target in a specific span of time. But he knew that he couldn't blame himself; Yuuri Katsuki was simply irresistible.

Because Yuuri was honest to a fault, and was literally a virgin when it came to these things, Viktor had been more than pleasantly surprised to discover that it came easy for Yuuri to talk about regrets and the future. And hopes and dreams.

And love.

That, and Yuuri was very open with showering heart-felt embraces and meaningful presents, like say, matching golden rings strategically – or maybe unwittingly – exchanged on the altar of a church in Spain. Viktor had wondered if Yuuri even thought about the true meaning behind his actions, because if he did, then Viktor was in deep trouble. Because Yuuri was irresistible, and patience was never Viktor's best trait.

And Yuuri… Yuuri always apologized for things that didn't need apologizing for. And Viktor was afraid that Yuuri was going to apologize to him one of these days when he finally realized the meaning behind those embraces, the lingering looks, the pounding of hearts after a long day of training, the shifty eyes when they were alone together in the hot baths, naked and trying very hard to look at everything other than each other. The rings on their fingers. The jokes of engagements and marriage.

Because to Viktor, those embraces were unspoken words of true, genuine gratitude. Those lingering looks were of undeniably heartfelt appreciation for giving Viktor Nikiforov something to look forward to in the future other than gold medals and titles. Those moments with his heart pounding after a long day of training had more to do with the sight of Yuuri sweaty and breathing heavily but still had enough left in him for another five or six hours of flips and toe loops. And those looks that Viktor shamelessly cast towards Yuuri when he thought he wasn't looking when they were bathing together, how he thought that the curves of his shoulders were quite fascinating when he modestly tried to hide his body in the hot water, or how his dark hair fell over the top of his brows made him look so much younger than his age, of which Viktor secretly loathed; he had always wondered how Asians aged so gracefully, and here he was, worrying about his hairline.

And then there were the rings. The goddamn rings Yuuri bought for them. He said it was for good luck. He said it was a thank you gift. He could have easily just bought something else. A watch? A necklace? A bloody keychain would have been more appropriate. It took everything Viktor had in him to keep his hands from shaking when Yuuri slipped that ring on his finger, and he had to wrestle with reason to keep himself from kissing Yuuri then and there right after he had in turn given his ring, and the only reason that made him not do so was that they were in Church.

And because Viktor was not used to being driven into a corner, he knew that it was time to push Yuuri against the wall and make him realize once and for all how normal human beings functioned in society. And the only way Viktor could only think of was giving him the hell-forsaken bottle.

Because Yuuri Katsuki was a lot more honest when he was dead drunk.

"I. Can. Still. Drink…!" Yuuri drawled happily before letting out a very, very undesirable belch. He had his arm slung over Viktor's shoulder, a half-empty bottle of champagne in one hand.

After the tournament in Barcelona, it was back to Hasetsu for the both of them, at least temporarily, and as expected from Yuuri's loving family, friends and fans, there was a grand celebration and Yuu-topia Katsuki was closed for a whole day to accommodate Yuuri's congratulatory party, as well as Viktor's return from his skating hiatus.

And it was only now, at two in the morning, with all the guests gone and the media had finally left them alone, was Viktor wondering if giving Yuuri the bottle was a bad idea after all. He knew that Yuuri and alcohol brought about interesting happenings and Yuuri had also shamefully admitted this to him before. But Viktor was desperate, a feeling he was not very much used to.

"Ah, Yuuri. Unfortunately, you cannot drink any more. You're an athlete. Admit defeat. And as your coach, you should listen to what I say," Viktor said as he shifted his hold on Yuuri's waist, making sure he didn't bump into any furniture that might wake up the sleeping family members. This was a hard feat, because the Onsen Bathhouse was old, and the wooden floorboards in the long hallway that led to Yuuri's bedroom creaked at every step they took.

Yuuri let out a high-pitched giggle, which Viktor thought to be very Yuuri-like. The first time he had come to Japan uninvited to arbitrarily tell Yuuri that he was to be his coach, most of the younger man's responses came in shrilly squeaks, nervous laughter and sometimes daring escapes. Viktor had heard many times that Japanese were just natural introverts. Well, given he had actually laid it on thick with the charm because he was most certainly accepting nothing but a 'yes' from Yuuri. Not that he had asked him to begin with. He had _told_ him. Because Viktor Nikiforov loved pulling the rug from under the whole world.

Because during that banquet held after the grand prix a year ago, where Yuuri had thrown away everything into reckless abandon, held a dance-off against anyone who was willing to take the challenge, dry-humped Viktor in the midst of everyone attending the gathering and blurted out in that strong Kyuushuu accent that only resurfaced when he was around family, _"Be my coach, Viktor!",_ Yuuri had pulled the rug from under _him_ , and as simple as that, Viktor's priorities changed.

And perhaps by then, without really realizing it, he might have already fallen in love with him.

But what was love, anyway? What was _agape?_ What was _eros?_ What was _Viktor's_ agape? What was _Viktor's_ eros?

A year ago, if anyone had asked Viktor those questions, he might have laughed it off and said some random word just to push their buttons. But now…

Now…

"Pork cutlet bowls," Viktor said under his breath as he used his foot to slide Yuuri's bedroom door open.

"Hn? Pork cutlet bowls? You want to eat some?" Yuuri asked, and in one swift move that a drunk couldn't possibly have executed, shrugged Viktor's hand away and was already waddling his way down the hall. "We can ask my mom to make us an extra, extra, _extra_ large one with spring onions. And extra eggsss…"

Viktor watched in total exasperation before running after him and grabbed him by the scruff of his collar. "No. Your mom is asleep, and you should be, too. Training starts early tomorrow."

Suddenly, Yuuri had his nose about a centimeter away from Viktor's, eyes unfocused and a smile swimming around his face like a goldfish in a bowl. "Training? What time do we start? Wait, let me change into my sweats… " Yuuri started to wrestle with his shirt and succeeded at pulling it over his head. He then started to attack his pants.

Now, Viktor was seldom flustered by these things, and he wanted to blame the considerable amount of alcohol he himself consumed earlier at the party. In normal circumstances, he would have flipped out his phone and documented the whole thing, for future reference. After all, it was not everyday Yuuri would daringly undress in front of him, except when they were off to take a bath, and he did that ever so timidly, too. He grabbed Yuuri's hands before he managed to pull his belt from his pants, and pulled him closer against him. "Yuuri, if you're trying to seduce me, it's not working."

A hundred percent lie there.

"Training is tomorrow. And after that, we're packing. Remember? If you're going to change clothes, get in your pajamas."

Yuuri frowned, slipping his arms around Viktor's middle to keep himself up, the socks he had on his feet making it hard for him to keep his balance. "Wait, what? Pack? Why?"

Viktor raised an eyebrow at him. He had explained this to Yuuri before the party even started, that since Viktor was going to remain as Yuuri's coach, and at the same time returning to competitive figure-skating, they were to find a home rink in Russia, as Viktor was going to continue under Yakov. There wasn't much debating needed, and the party started after they decided to move to Saint Petersburg after getting the paperwork done, and after Yuuri had his quality time with his family and friends.

Apparently, drunk Yuuri forgot about that fact, too.

Viktor ran a hand down Yuuri's spine, thinking that he deserved a bit of teasing for forgetting their life-long plan together in their career. It was always easy to punish Yuuri; all Viktor had to do was pretend to flirt, and the guy would be so lost with how to react that he would either stammer a faint denial, or run away. "Because, Yuuri, you promised we would marry, and so I'm taking you away from your family so we can live together happily ever after in Russia. The only thing we're debating is the eternal question of _who_ is marrying into _whose_ family. You wouldn't mind being a Nikiforov, yes?" Of course, this was a joke. Russia wasn't as open with these kinds of relationships as they were in, say, America. Yeah, but Viktor was never keen at listening to what other people said, and right now Yuuri was too intoxicated to question the facts of the real world.

This had Viktor stopping in mid-thought. He had grown up in a family that taught him that you could have everything your heart wanted if you tried hard enough. His mother never confined him within the rules of society, and to be honest, Viktor couldn't care any less about the gender norms. He grew out his hair long enough to have people think he looked like a girl. He choreographed his performances without thinking about how people would perceive him. The costumes designed for him back in his junior skating days both had feminine and masculine attributes. In short, Viktor was genuinely color-blind when it came to gender. He liked what he liked and he hated what he hated, and desired what he thought was desirable.

And ever since that moment a year ago, when Yuuri pole-danced his ass off in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, his socks and a tie, he had been just that: _desirable_.

Getting to know his preferences had been hard for Viktor, as Yuuri seemed to have never experienced falling in love before. He shrank away at Viktor's touch, looked away when Viktor was undressing, locked the door when offered a night of pillow talk. Viktor had asked him about the women that he may possible have liked in the past. Hiroko looked to be Yuuri's type, which Yuuri denied when asked. Yuko might have been the best option for him, but Viktor never asked because he was afraid of what Yuuri would say. He had asked him, once, as they sat at the beach looking out into the sea, what Yuuri wanted Viktor to be. A father figure? No? The best reaction he had was when Viktor asked him if he would have preferred him as a lover. And Yuuri was _flustered_.

And Viktor _loved_ it. He loved picking clues of how Yuuri saw him. The quivering of his lips when Viktor came too close. The way he laced his fingers with his seconds before he left for the ice. Or how he pulled at Viktor's necktie when he wanted his undivided attention. The telltale signs that maybe – just _maybe_ – he shared the same feelings.

Well, cyber space simply thought it to be so. The grapevine was, well, the grapevine. And thanks to Yuuri's friends who lived for social media, pictures of a naked and very seductive-looking Viktor hugging a reluctant Yuuri during the China Cup, or that time in when Viktor was so ecstatic at Yuuri's great performance that he just had to go down on his knees and kiss Yuuri's skates, and Yuuri being too happy to resist, just sat there amidst the flashing cameras, waving and looking like the innocent Japanese man that he was.

Everyone in the skating world was talking about it with enthusiasm. What was Yuuri thinking? What was he _feeling?_

"Whoa, what?" Viktor said when Yuuri suddenly grabbed him by the collar and pulled his head down, pressing his forehead against his.

Yuuri looked up at him from under those dark lashes of his. In the dim glow of the old lamp overhead, his bare skin looked even paler than usual. That was when he remembered that Yuuri was naked waist up.

"You'll catch cold," Viktor pointed out. "We don't want that, do we?"

Yuuri ignored him. "What are you talking about, Viktor?" he drawled slowly. Viktor could smell the strong scent of alcohol from his breath. "If we're getting married, you, you know, should marry into _my_ family. All I have to do is adopt you, and you'll be, uh, legally in my family register. Besides, did you know? My last name's first kanji is _Katsu_ , which means 'winner' in Japanese. And your name is, I don't know, _Viktor_ , which uh, means victory, right? You'll be _Viktor Katsuki_. You'll be unbeatable!" The grip he had on Viktor's collar loosened and he looked down at the ring in his right hand, suddenly distracted.

Then, suddenly and almost sounding very sad, Yuuri added, "Well, you've always been unbeatable… so I guess you don't really need my name, right?"

And Viktor could only stand there, looking down at Yuuri as if seeing him for the first time. This man had always surprised him in many ways when it came to life, love and skating. But this, right now, _this moment_ … it was probably the biggest surprise of all.

"I want it," Viktor whispered, slowly wrapping his arms around Yuuri and crushing him against him in a very, very tight embrace. Viktor buried his head against the crook of Yuuri's neck. "I want your name. I _need_ it. I need _you."_

Yuuri laughed and he began to caress Viktor's back gently. "That's not true. You're Viktor Nikiforov. The world needs you, but you've never needed anything the world's offered you. Except, I don't know, pork cutlet bowls?"

Viktor's breath caught in his throat, and he just stood there, face in Yuuri's neck. Because what Yuuri said was one hundred percent accurate. In this world, he had never really wanted anything as bad as this.

"Of course," he said, his voice muffled against Yuuri's skin. "I _love_ pork cutlet bowls."

You know, sexy pork cutlet bowls. The ones that would probably forget about this in the morning when they woke up with a serious hangover.

Viktor reached down his pocket and clumsily got his phone out. Getting his camera ready and pointing at nothing in particular on the old, noisy floorboards, he pressed the record button. "Yuuri?"

"Hn?"

"Will you marry me?"

Yuuri laughed again and the hands caressing Viktor's back stopped at his waist. "That's a stupid question since I gave you a ring and you accepted and you said in front of everyone that we're engaged."

Viktor sighed. "Just answer the question."

"Hm… Okay, sure. Should we get married when _I_ get the gold, or when _you_ get the gold?"

Viktor laughed. "Now _that's_ a stupid question." He paused, thought for a bit, then said, "I don't care. Let's just get married."

"Okay. I like that idea."

Viktor pressed the stop button on his phone, slipped it back into his pocket and sighed. Tomorrow, if Yuuri conveniently forgot about this, he could just easily post it on Twitter. Hashtag proposal? Hashtag YuuriKAtsuki? Hashtag ViktorKatsuki? Hashtag HappyBF?

That way, they'd have the whole world as their witness, and Yuuri wouldn't be able to make any more daring escapes.

The thought made Viktor raise his head at this realization. He dug back into his pocket, logged into his account. A click here, a swipe there. And Viktor Nikoforov had once again pulled the rug from under the world, as he was famous for doing so ever since he was sixteen. Satisfied, he urged a finally obedient Yuuri into his room, tucked him into his bed like a good coach, and went back to his own room to start packing the many, many belongings he had brought with him to Japan.

And as expected, Yuuri Katsuki, who slept until noon, woke up with a major hangover and his inbox with seventy-three pending messages, his phone log with eighty-seven missed calls, and Viktor Nikiforov's Tweet about getting married in the news.

And as expected, Yuuri Katsuki, bless him, had absolutely no idea what was going on.

* * *

 _Author's Note: It's been a while since I wrote any fanfiction, and Yuri on Ice was probably the only thing that actually inspired me to write something in what, three? Four years? This happens to me when a good series ends and I'm left with withdrawals. But yes, YOI is different for me. And why is that?_

 _Because I've been writing fanfiction since I was in college, and all my stories had been about love and all that, and it had always been about a hetero couple. But you see, Yuugiri is fujoshi. Fan of yaoi, fan of shounen ai. But this is the first time I actually wrote something in this genre. Not that I never had the urge to write about it, but because I was never too knowledgeable about the topic. Sexuality has always been a tender topic at this day and age. People get touchy or offended or disappointed one way or the other when it came to homosexuality._

 _So, why write about it now? My knowledge is still lacking, I know. But then why did I write this?_

 _See, here's what's nice about Yuri on Ice. HOMOSEXUALITY WAS NOT THE RECURRING THEME OF THE ANIME. It was love, respect and admiration between two human beings. It was support, encouragement and friendship of the people surrounding these two human beings, regardless of culture, race and age. We have Phichit declaring in the China Cup that his friends got married, and we have people clapping and congratulating them, which in the real world would probably not happen ever, but in the YOI world, sexuality was not a big deal that it was just… a good, good feeling. Two human beings being happy together and people around them sincerely saying, 'Way to go!' We do not have the media in this anime reporting about a gay couple, but just that, a couple cheering each other on._

 _I think that it's one of the prettiest things I've seen on anime yet._

 _Well, that's just what I think. This story is a one-shot. But ideas of making a multi-chapter are floating here and there. Maybe ten chapters at most? But don't count on it, please. LOL!_


End file.
